


Dirty Tricks, Dirty Sex

by SammysGirl666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Jealous sex, Jealousy, M/M, jealous!Dean, possessive!dean, sneaky!Sam, tricky!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammysGirl666/pseuds/SammysGirl666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's had enough.</p><p>Prompt: could you write a fic with sam and adam getting sexual and dean sees it and dean's jealous he fucks sam and is all like 'mine' ??? (and that was sam's goal all along pls)</p><p>(I took some liberties)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Tricks, Dirty Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Why does this keep happening? This is 2k words. Seriously, why does this keep happening?

By his nature, Sam isn’t very manipulative. He doesn’t like being manipulative, doesn’t think it is right unless he’s using his cunning against demons or for the greater good. Manipulation for manipulation’s own sake is wrong. Manipulation for the sake of one’s own pleasure is even worse. But his brother is Dean Winchester and he’s running out of options.

And if his brother were anyone but Dean, he figures he wouldn’t have to be so devious. It’s not his fault that Dean can sometimes be dense, almost as if he does it intentionally to piss Sam off.

It certainly isn’t his fault that Adam offers up the perfect solution. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but he can’t help himself. It helps that Adam’s completely on board with the idea.

“He’s been a dick to me since we met,” Adam says, “and you seem like a nice guy. Plus, we’re brothers, right? We mess with each other. It’s what we do.”

Adam’s surprisingly cavalier about the whole thing but it only makes Sam’s job easier so he doesn’t question it. Adam doesn’t ask him to explain the whole “incest thing,” doesn’t even bring it up. There might be a reason for that but, again, Sam doesn’t question it. 

“So, uh, you’re sure you wanna do this?” Adam asks while they’re waiting for Dean to get back from the bar.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Adam shrugs, “I mean, if Dean doesn’t react the way you want…things could turn ugly.”

That’s true, Sam supposes. But he doesn’t have any more choices. Dean’s been avoiding this since Sam came back from Stanford and Sam’s tired. He’s tired of the drunk kisses and messy, post-hunt hand jobs that “never happened.” He’s tired of watching Dean throw himself at any woman who looks at him the right way. He’s tired of coming in second to Dean’s doubts and watching his brother sleep around as if their touches mean nothing.

This is his only option. He has to show Dean how he feels because his brother buries that crap under miles and miles of denial and self-hatred. So even though this isn’t exactly orthodox or fair, Sam’s out of ideas.

“If it turns ugly, get out of here and go check yourself into a separate room. I can handle Dean.”

Adam nods and, all too soon, they hear the roar of the Impala pulling up outside. Sam sits down on the couch and Adam, going by their script, straddles him. Sam isn’t really paying attention when their lips meet until Adam’s tongue slips past his lips and he almost gets distracted. Adam is better at this than Sam had assumed he would be. His hands, almost involuntarily, find their way to Adam’s hips and before Sam really knows what’s going on, they’re having a serious make-out session on the couch.

Then the door opens and Sam remembers why they’re here. He comes back to himself, tongue still entwined with Adam’s. Adam pulls away, head snapping to the side in a wonderful imitation of genuine surprise. Sam, a few seconds behind, turns his head as well to see Dean standing in the doorway, mouth dropped open in shock. Sam knows when things take a turn, can see the anger in the way Dean clenches his jaw.

Adam scrambles off of Sam and starts to ramble nervously and he almost has Sam convinced. The kid could be a great actor, Sam thinks off handedly.

“Dean I—” Adam stutters, “Sam and I were—he was just—”   

“Get out,” Dean says lowly, voice cold. Adam nods and starts to stumble out the door but when he gets close enough to Dean, the older hunter grabs his chin, forcing the younger man to look him in the eye. “If I _ever_ see you touching him again—well, let’s just say I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Adam look genuinely scared before he bolts out the door, slamming it behind him. Dean’s eyes find Sam again and Sam expects to be lynched. But Dean’s face softens somewhat, his posture changes and the look of anger turns into one of frustration. He heaves a sigh and steps further in to the room, peeling off his jacket and meeting Sam’s gaze head on.

Before Sam knows what’s going on, he’s got a lapful of Dean. Dean’s strong hands grab his face and Dean doesn’t loosen his grip until he seems sure that he has Sam’s attention.

“No touches you but me, Sammy,” Dean growls and then his lips take Sam’s in a harsh imitation of a kiss, their teeth knocking together painfully. But Sam won’t stop for the world. Dean rips his lips away and starts leaving biting kisses all over Sam’s jaw. “No one gets to see you like this, but me.”

Their lips meet again but this time Dean’s tongue slips into Sam’s mouth and, Jesus, does Dean know how to kiss. Sam gets lost in the magical things Dean does with his tongue but, all too soon, Dean is pulling away again.

“You are mine, Sam. Do you understand?”

Sam nods frantically, trying to get more of Dean’s skin under his hands but there’s so many layers of clothing in the way.

“Tell me,” Dean commands, “say it, baby brother.”

 “Yours Dean,” Sam gasps, “’m yours.”

An animalistic sound is torn from Dean’s throat and he’s off of Sam’s lap, yanking his brother’s hand and pulling him to the bed. Sam’s back hits the mattress and he bounces. Dean starts to strip and Sam groans in delight.

“Strip Sammy,” Dean grunts while pulling his shoes off. Sam complies, starting to shed his clothes as fast as he possibly can, hands catching in the fabric in an infuriating way that just serves to make him more sexually frustrated.

When he finally pulls his boxers off, Dean wastes no time in attacking. Their bodies collide and Sam feels fire wherever their bare skin touches. This isn’t new, they’ve done this before, the naked thing and the rutting thing. Their hard cocks align with each other, and it isn’t new at all, a familiar feeling that’s usually tempered by the influence of alcohol. But in the sober, cold light of day, it’s even better and Sam feels every inch of Dean’s sex along his own and it’s fucking indescribable.

“Dean,” Sam moans, “Dean, please, wait. Stop.”

Dean’s whole body freezes and he flies off Sam like he’s just been burned. His face contorts into one of remorse and he opens his mouth, perhaps to apologize or something but Sam cuts him off.

“No,” Sam says, “it’s not, uh, I just want you to, uh, fuck me.”

There’s another throaty growl from Dean before Sam’s, once again, being pressed into the mattress.  

“You’re mine Sammy,” Dean mutters again, as if he’s reminding himself and Sam. The heat of his body leaves Sam for a minute while he digs lube out of his bag by the bed. He pops the cap and dribble some onto his fingers. “Next time,” he growls, “I’m gonna fuck you for hours. Gonna make you beg for it, baby brother. You’re gonna feel me in you for weeks.”

Sam’s whole body shudders at the words.

“Never gonna touch anyone else again, little brother. Never.”

“’m yours Dean. ‘N you’re mine.” It’s a risk to say it and he feels Dean’s pause, the moment he realizes exactly what it is they’re doing this. If this happens, this is it. For both of them.

“Yeah Sammy,” and his voice is the softest it’s been all night, “I’m yours.”

Sam lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Dean’s lips trail down Sam’s long body, until he’s face to face with Sam’s drooling cock. The hot wetness of Dean’s lips around him has Sam’s hips nearly flying off the bed. But Dean seems to expect this and drapes his arm across Sam’s pelvis to hold the younger man’s hips down. Dean pulls off and his dark green eyes look right into Sam’s.

“He touch you like this, Sammy?”

Sam shakes his head frantically and whines high in his throat when Dean starts to mouth at his cock again. The press of wet fingers at his asshole is foreign but not unwelcome. The first finger doesn’t meet much resistance, slipping past the tight ring of muscles easily enough. The pressure is strange and then Dean sinks in even further and Sam can feel the way he crooks his finger slightly but, after that, he isn’t sure because lights go off behind his eyes.

“Do that—” Sam chokes, “do that again.”

Pleasure rockets up his spine in a short, so-not-enough, burst and he gasps so hard he coughs slightly. Dean’s mouth leaves his cock and his lips find Sam’s hip bone. Sam can feel the smirk again his hip and the smugness is probably radiating off of Dean but Sam doesn’t care, just wants more of that fiery pleasure.

Dean gives, starts mouthing at Sam’s cock again as he works in a second finger. Sam’s lost to the feeling, can’t comprehend anything else beyond it. The third finger burns but it’s a welcome temperament to the haze of pleasure he’s slowly getting lost in. Dean’s lips start trailing back up slowly but Sam’s had quite enough of that and he yanks Dean up by the hair, eliciting a hiss from his brother that’s quickly stifled by Sam’s mouth.

“Fuck me,” Sam begs, “god Dean, do it now.”

“Yeah baby,” Dean huffs, “gonna fuck you. Gonna make you mine.”

The pressure of Dean’s cock at his hole is a little overwhelming and he has to force himself to relax. His pleasure haze ebbs slightly as the burn of Dean’s cock entering him jolts up his spine. He bears down though, eyes never leaving Dean’s, a silent communication of _I’m yours, you’re mine, I’m yours, you’re mine._ Sam hears the words in his head over and over again in his head like a mantra.

When Dean’s fully seated, there’s moment of pause, a moment where they take each other in. But the heat must be too much for Dean because his hips start to rock and after a few thrusts, he angles his hips just right and Sam is gone. That little pleasure spot inside him gets nailed on every thrust and Sam loses it his hands flying around Dean’s shoulders, nails scraping over the skin of his back.

“Oh fucking God, Dean,” Sam sobs, “fuck. So fucking good.”

“Yeah Sammy,” Dean moans, “yeah.”

Their movements change, become more urgent. Dean hauls Sam closer to him and the angle is even better. They start to fuck in earnest, hands slipping over sweaty skin as their hips move together. They find a rhythm, a needy desperate rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless. Sam’s being fucked into the clouds, as far as he’s concerned, his blood singing with pleasure as Dean gives it to him just right.

“Jesus Sammy,” Dean grunts, “you’re so fuckin’ tight.”

Sam just moans and their movements get even more frantic and Sam can feel the pressure of orgasm at the base of his spine, can feel the warm heat of it. Dean seems to be attuned to Sam’s needs because his hand snakes down to Sam’s leaking cock and encircles it, stroking it in time with their near-frantic thrusts.

Sam doesn’t stand a chance. His hips lurch upward, driving Dean’s cock even deeper and his eyes roll back, air flooding his lungs as he begs for breath and then it leaves him in a near-shout as pleasure courses through him. His cock jerks in Dean’s grip and then spurt after spurt of come splashes between them, covering their stomachs.

“Ah fuck, Sammy,” Dean whines. And then Sam feels his tight channel flood with heat as Dean comes inside him. His whole body shudders as he bites down on Sam’s shoulder, little grunts and whines being breathed into his skin.

Dean collapses on top of him and Sam’s arms find their away around his shoulders automatically. They lay there, just getting their breaths back before Dean rolls off him. There’s silence and Sam turns onto his side, curling into Dean. He only fears rejection for a second before Dean pulls him closer and allows him to rest his head on his chest.

“What’d you have to say to get Adam to agree to that little stunt?” Dean asks and Sam winces. He really needs to stop underestimating Dean.

“He seemed pretty willing,” Sam admits, “wanted to get you back, I guess.”

Dean snorts but doesn’t say anything. His hands strokes through Sam’s hair and there’s definitely a possessiveness in the gesture. Even though Dean seems to be aware of Sam’s ploy, it still struck a chord within the older hunter.

“I’m sorry,” Sam continues, nuzzling into Dean’s chest, “I’m sorry I tricked you.”

There’s more silence as Dean’s other hands sneaks under the covers to run through cool, drying come on their stomachs. They’ll need to clean up soon. Sam looks up at Dean who still hasn’t said anything. His older brother looks at him, his lips quirking up into a ghost of a smirk.

“I’m not.”


End file.
